


U make an Ass out of Me

by Chibiness87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Romance, The X-Files Revival, after work plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: What happens between Mulder and Scully when he assumes something? Enquiring minds want to know.





	U make an Ass out of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I… make no apologies for this. At all. Not a one.

**U make an Ass out of Me** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating: T**.  
**Season/Spoilers** : Set mid season11. Sometime after tLAoFS, but pre Ghouli.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

To be honest, you’re not entirely sure how you’ve managed to get here.

Here, as in this moment, right now.

With you in a suit, and her in a suit, and a judge overseeing the whole thing. To be completely frank, there is a small part of you which is wondering what kind of crazy shit drug you’ve been subjected to, because it’s either that or parallel universes, and as your case a few weeks ago showed, there’s no such thing as parallel universes.

But no matter the how, here you stand.

Marrying Scully.

“’Til death do you part,” the judge says.

“And then some,” you mutter, and your heart skips when she hears it and smiles.

No. You definitely didn’t see this happening when you woke up this morning.

* * *

 

The alarm clock is on the wrong side of the bed.

In fact, the whole bed is on the wrong side of the bed. And not just the bed. It’s also the window and the wardrobe and the door to the bathroom. In fact, the only familiar thing about the room is the smell, and that’s more because it’s Scully’s smell than anything else.

Oh right.

You’re at Scully’s place.

You remembers now.

Somewhere between the second and third beer, she had leant over the space between you both and kissed you, and you had kissed her, and well, here you are.

In her bed.

Naked.

There are, you acknowledge, worse places to wake up.

The bedroom door creaks open in an unfamiliar way, but the way her eyes lighten at seeing you awake is a new-old familiar. You can definitely get used to this.

Again.

Returning the smile which is tilting the edge of her mouth, you nod towards the steaming mugs in her hands. “One of those for me?”

Nodding, Scully moves closer, extending the mug closest to you. You receive it gratefully, taking a quick sip of the still too-hot coffee, before leaning over to the wrong side of the bed to place the mug on the bedside table. Scully has moved closer, and you reach over and takes her mug from her, silencing her annoyed, “Hey!” with a kiss.

Kissing Scully.

Yes, you can definitely get used to this.

“Hi.” You snake a hand around her arm. Give it a slight tug. “C’mere”

Scully rolls her eyes, but shuffles back under the covers anyway. Curling up onto your chest, her small hand comes to rest over your heartbeat.

“Skinner called. Reggie’s been sectioned. They’re not going to put him on trial. Apparently his ramblings were enough to convince the judge he wasn’t fit for it.”

You “Hmmm” in reply. Pause. Tilt your head down to try to see her better. “Hey, Scully…”

“Oh god.” You can _hear_ her eyes roll. “If you’re going to ask me about parallel universes again, I’m going to shower.”

She pushes back against you, as if to do just that, but before she can move more than a few inches you tighten your arms around her again. “Sorry.”

“Besides,” she says, resting her head back against your chest, “even if there were such things, which there are _not,_ this is the only universe of consequence. What good would wondering if there was another you out there in another universe really accomplish?”

“You don’t think there could be better worlds out there?”

“Maybe. But I’m not going to dwell. After all, I have to live in this one.”

You sigh. She’s right, as usual. Not that you plan on actually telling her that in the next, oh, ever. Besides, you’re pretty sure you don’t have to; she knows it anyway.

The snooze on her alarm trills again, and you flail your arm slightly in an attempt to reach the offending appliance to silent it, but it’s too far away.

On her side of the bed. Which, you realise, is yours at home. And, come to think of it, every bed you have ever shared, even before, when you were partners. And before that, when you were just partners.

The realisation hits you like a punch, and you blink. Bite your lip to hide a smile. She sleeps on your side of the bed when you’re not there.

It’s… cute.

Scully is grumbling herself now, poking your side, and it takes you a moment to realise your time in bed has officially come to an end, and you both need to get up or you’ll be late.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Want me to wash your back?” You waggle your eyebrows to show you’re teasing, mostly, and are rewarded with an exasperated shake of her head, but you still sees the smile she cannot hide.

That, and the slight discolouration around her nipple, where you got a little too enthusiastic with your mouth last night. It makes your penis twitch, and the glance down at it she gives does absolutely nothing to help the situation.

The hint of tongue at her lower lip is downright cruel.

“Work,” she tells you, letting the bathroom door slip closed behind her. Reaching for your abandoned coffee, you’ve almost finished by the time you hear the shower shut off. It is mere moments later when she emerges in a billowing cloud of steam, towel wrapped around her, hiding all the good parts.

You watch from her bed as she starts to dress, smiling to yourself as you’re allowed to watch this ritual once more. Appreciating eyes travel over her skin, even as you drawl, “Hope you left me enough hot water.”

Again, the eye drop. The tongue flick. Again with the hopeful twitch of your member. Voice low, sultry, she asks, “Are you sure that’s what you need right now?”

And then with a teasing lilt, she presses a kiss to your temple, grabbing her own coffee from the bedside table. You make a grasp for her hand, but she is too quick for you, slipping out of your arms and heading to the door. With a nod of her head to the bathroom, she orders, “Shower. We’re going to be late.”

“So we’re a little late…”

“You can explain it to Kersh then.” She leaves with a wink, and you groan, even as you relish in your banter.

Shower completed, you dress in a suit you left here the last time you stayed. Slipping on your watch at you leave the room, you find her in the kitchen with half a slice of toast in her mouth, and a piece for you extended in her hand. You take it with a smile and a nod, moving around her to place your empty mugs by the sink.

You’re smooth in the rest of your morning routine, the personal morphing to professional, making it out of her place and into the office with a grand two minutes to spare. Despite the professionalism she insists on, you can’t help to push the boundaries, just a little. You stand too close to her in the elevator on the way down, and the hand you place at the small of her back is more habit than ownership, but the way she leans back into you reminds you of a time when you both felt you had to hide their relationship from everyone.

These days, everyone thinks there is no relationship to hide, and this subtle way of flaunting just how wrong people can be is still a little bit thrilling.

To not be sleeping together when the bull-pen thinks you are is one thing, but to be actually sleeping together when the office thinks you aren’t… well. This is a side of it you, for one, missed the first go-around.

The meeting with Kersh is dull. Budgets and protocols dull. Fingers tapping on the legal pad you have written absolutely nothing on, you’re startled by the feeling of her hand slipping under the table and against your thigh. She squeezes your knee, the minx, and suddenly it’s like it’s fifteen years ago and hiding how much you want to throw her against the desk and do her right there, boss and onlookers be damned.

But you’re past 50 now, and your knees, not to mention your back, probably can’t take that form of punishment right now, not after last night at any rate, and so you let the moment pass.

That doesn’t stop you crowding her in the only the way you can as soon as you’re freed from bureaucracy crap. Standing too close waiting on the elevator, hand at her back again once inside the car. Walking side by side down the corridor you lean over and down to her, whispering in her ear. A promise for later. Lunch ideas. And dinner.

Dessert.

It’s everything and nothing. Personal and professional. Toeing the line from the wrong side.

You go out for lunch, as is your custom now. The new face at the local diner smiles at you both when she delivers your food, at the way you haven’t quite let go of her hand, your fingers playing with each other for anyone to see.

_Let them see_ , you think. _Let them_.

“How long have you been married?”

It’s question you used to get a lot, before. Back in the old days of seedy contacts and seedier motels. Small town gossip looking for new fodder, when it was easier to believe you were a couple than not. Back then questions like that threw you for a loop, because how could they know that’s what you wanted?

But that was then.

Now, you just smile. “We’re not. Been together for years. But no, not married.”

The waitress blushes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No. It’s ok.” This from Scully. And then she shocks you by taking your hand more fully in hers. It appears you’ve reached that stage where hand holding is ok.

Hand holding in public, no less.

Christ, were you ever this pathetic the first time around?

“That’s cool. My parents aren’t married, so... I mean, it’s not for everyone, right?” She blushes. Kid can’t be more than 16, you think. William’s age. The thump of pain at the thought of your son is an old friend, and you’ve grown at being a master of hiding it. Glancing down, you let your hand stroke the ring finger of her left hand for a moment, remembering a time years ago when there was a ring on it, a ring you had placed there no less. It may have been for a case, but you liked the way it looked, even then. The kid sees it, she must, because she fixes you with the kind of smile you used to see all those years ago, and you know what’s coming before she says it. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why not?”

“I know what she’d say,” you say with a soft smile at Scully.

It’s not like you haven’t thought of it, of course. But how can you possibly explain to the world what you mean to each other in the same way as normal, not-you people do. So no. You’ve never asked, because you know her answer will be no. And that’s fine. Has always been fine. But then you stop. Blink. Stare at her. Gawp, really. Because while you’re saying this, expecting her to say something along the same lines as you, you’ve come too far, you mean too much to each other, something that says you are on the same page for this, even now… she’s saying to this kid who you’ve met for all of 10 seconds, lowly, like she’s conveying a secret, “He’s never asked me.”

And then she blinks at you, like _you’ve_ just pulled the rug from under _her_ … and you stare.

“What?”  
“What?”

Hushed now, whispering across the table in this diner you’ve eaten at more times than you can count, mindless of the other patrons and the waitress who is slipping away, you ask, not quite breathing, “You’d marry me, Scully?”

She shrugs, like it isn't the biggest thing you’ve ever discussed. Bigger than ‘let’s make a baby’, or ‘run away with me’.

Bigger than a son you both miss with every beat of your heart.

“If you asked.”

You try to come up with something to say to that. Let your eyes examine every crease and line of her face, the ones you know intimately, and the new ones you’re still getting to know, looking for a tell. Any moment now you expect her to crack, and smile, and tell you, ‘I had you big time.’

But none of that comes, and she returns your gaze solidly.

“Right.” Your free hand pushes away the burger and fries you haven’t even touched, pulling her away from her own salad. “Right.”

“Mulder?”

Her gaze seems worried now, like she’s suddenly concerned for your health. Sorry Scully, but you should have thought of that before laying this particular gauntlet down. Dropping to one knee, ignoring the creak as you do so, you ask, “Marry me, Scully?”

There are gasps coming from around you, and a crash as someone drops a glass. But you’re deaf and blind to it all, your only focus on her.

“You…” She glances around, before turning back to you shock in her gaze. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Well,” you shrug, like you’re not suddenly worried she’s about to turn you down after all, “yeah.”

Her mouth drops, and you hold up a finger in the universal ‘wait’ sign. Fumbling for a moment, you manage to pull your wallet free from your trouser pocket. Flipping it open, you pull the object you’ve had hidden at the bottom for years now. Bought in a backwater town in a backwater state, but the gem matches the hue of her eyes when she’s so happy it seems like they sparkle, and, well, if you were ever going to give her a ring it would be this one.

Still on one knee, classic proposal stance, you hold it out to her. “I mean, I bought you this. Had it for years, but I always thought…”

“How long?”

“Scully,” you sigh, “does it matter?” She gives you a look, and you give in. You do the math quickly. Her hair had been shorter, the suits bad but not horrendous. Pre Antarctica, post abduction. Hers, not yours. “Twenty… two years. Give or take.”

“Jesus.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Get up.” She’s crying now, large tears welling from her eyes, even as she swipes them away. But she’s also smiling, and it gives your heart hope.

“Scully?”

The mummer of the crowd is beginning to filter through. Her hand comes down to cup your arm, and you feel each point of contact like a searing heat. “For god’s sake, Mulder. Get up.”

You do so, joints cracking all the while, but before you can complain, before you can breathe, she is there, crushing into your chest. It takes you a moment, but eventually you hear her answer. “Yes.” And then, in case you had any doubt, she kisses you. Right there in the diner, for all and sundry to see. “Yes yes yes.”

Eventually you separate. Ignoring the clapping and the cheering from around you, you only have eyes for her. “When?”

“What?”

She blinks, like she’s in shock. To be fair to her, you’re not feeling quite so well yourself. But still, you manage to ask, “When do you want to get married?”

She pauses, and you can see her thinking. Things may be getting better between you, especially in the past few months, but maybe pushing this too quickly will backfire. You’re about to offer her an out, or a long engagement, like you haven’t felt married for the past fifteen years at least, when she raises her head to yours, lower lip caught between her teeth. “You got anywhere you need to be after work?”

You feel your heart leap. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Well, I mean, I don’t really want a big wedding. Who would we invite, anyway? Skinner?”

You feel a pang in your chest at the question. Because there are people who you want to be there, but who can’t. Her mother. Her sister.

Your son.

Holding back a wince, you offer, “You could invite your brother?”

Sure, Bill might deck you, but if she wants family there you’re willing to run the risk.

“No.” She shakes her head defiantly. “Let’s just swing by city hall later. Get it over with.”

You snort. “Wow. Way to romance a guy, Scully.”

This time, she moves back slightly to stare at you. Tone hard, voice firm, she states, “I’m keeping my name.”

You nod. Like you expected her to do anything else? “Good.” And then, because you can, you add, “Me too.”

Tone less sure now, Scully sighs. “And my lease isn't up until the end of next month.”

You shrug. “So we’ll have a place in town. Get a lie in on a work day. Imagine all the things we could do with an extra hour in bed…” You waggle your eyebrows at her, pleased when it makes her huff a laugh.

Sober now, she leans her head back on your chest. Reaching down, she plucks the ring you’ve all but forgotten about from your hand. Holds it up to the light to inspect it. “We really doing this then?”

Even now, you’re still waiting for her to come to her senses. Even now you give her an out. “Unless you don’t want to…” you say, reaching for the ring.

Her hand close over it protectively, and you smile. “No. No, I want… I want to.”

Bending down, you press a kiss to her forehead. “Ok then.”

“Ok.”

Your phone takes that moment to ring, interrupting you. It’s Skinner, of course it is, wondering if you actually plan on returning to the office any time soon. Apparently, being met by an empty office, complete with empty desk, does not a happy boss make. And, given you’ve just made very important after-work plans, getting away from the office on time has suddenly become a high priority.

Somehow, you manage to get through the slog of an afternoon filled with boring paperwork. When closing time comes, you’re up and into your coat before Scully can blink, and you have her up and into her own coat in a matter of moments.

She tumbles slightly in her heels, leaning on your arm for balance. “Whoa, what’s the rush?”

You blink, gaping at her for a moment, before you see the teasing glint in her eye. “Got somewhere I need to be.” You give her a glance out the corner of your eye, fingers playing with your phone. Trying to hide the nervousness, you ask, “You coming?”

She smiles. Soft. Genuine. A slight tease around the edge. “I guess I could tag along.”

There is a nervous energy about you now, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and touch her. You want to, more than anything, but you don’t want to tempt fate by getting too hands-y before the deed is done.

And then, before you can quite believe it, the paperwork is done, the (second) best form you have ever seen, and your IDs are checked, and a judge is standing between you, asking if you’re both of sound mind, and entering this union of your own free will. You nod in all the right places, and speak when prompted, and when the judge says, “’Til death do you part,” you can’t help but add, with a smile and a wink, “and then some,” and she smiles at you and your heart skips a beat and then five minutes later it’s done.

You’re married to Scully.

You take her hand, new ring glistening on her hand, and walk into the sunlight. Not quite daring to believe.

Holy shit.

You just married Scully.

You look over to her, looking for some form of reassurance. She seems to be in the same state of shock as you, and this, surprisingly, is what calms you down.

“So.” She says, standing on the steps, “What now?”

You shrug. “Dinner?”

She pauses, tilts her head in that way you know so well. “I could eat.”

“I know of a sushi place not far from here. Fairly new. Supposed to be good.”

She squeezes your hand. Shakes her head. “Maybe another night. Right now, I just want to go home. With you.”

You know what she means by that, and you smile. “Sounds good,” you say, starting to walk towards the car. And then, just to try it out, you add, “wife.” The word tastes good on your tongue, and you smile. Joyful and light in a way you haven’t felt in years. “Wife. Missus. Light of my life. Whole of my heart. Pumpkin. Snookums. Ba…”

“Mulder?”

You grin at her. “Yes, Scully?”

“Shut up.” 

* * *

End

 


End file.
